The last time Lyra had introduced someone in her family to Patrick, it hadn't gone so well. Badly, you'd probably say. Stress crying in the bathroom afterward badly; and that was before Jem had really stated to go properly weird about it all.
It'd probably inspire reluctance, in some people. It definitely had Lyra hyped, which was as close as she got to admitting she was nervous. It was just... Avery meant so much to her. Patrick meant so much to her. And people who meant so much to her tended to have a natural compulsion to clash.
But! Worrying had never changed anything, so there was nothing really to be done except dive in and see what shape the splash took. On the bus ride across to DUMBO, she kept glancing at Avery like she was trying to read his mind. What was it like for him, meeting his wife's dad, who was also an ancient and magical Saint, and only the second immortal he'd ever met after Apollo? Like, what was going on in his mind? She could have asked, she supposed, but when he'd caught her looking at him he'd quirked his eyebrow up and asked "what?" she'd just grinned and shrugged and gathered a handful of the front of his shirt to pull him closer to kiss. It helped. He helped.
Just wait and see what shape the splash took, she guessed.
She kept her hand in Avery's all the way to Patrick's door, and when he opened it wearing that apron she couldn't help a peal of laughter and a grin over at Avery; he'd worn the same phrase on a shirt the night they'd broken into the frat house together.
"Great! We bought beer!" Lyra replied, giving her dad a quick, tight hug and feeling a little less hyped for the moment, though the energy poured back as she stepped back. "Guinness, cuz it felt right. Avery's got it. That's him!" She pointed. "That's Patrick!" She pointed again. "We made it!"